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THE HEPiOES 



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OF 



THE LAST LUSTRE. 



A POEM. 







** THERE WERE GIANTS IN THE EARTH IN THOSE DAYS.'" 



P 



/- 



NEW YOEK: 
PUBLISHED BY DANIEL DANA, Jr. 

381 BROADWAY. 

1858. 




-^ ^ 








Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, 

By DANIEL DANA, Jr., 

In the Clerk *s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. 



RENNIE, SHEA & LINDSAY 

Stkbkotypkrs and Elkctbotypkrs, 

81, 83, & 85 Centre-street 

Nbw York. 



TO 



THE MEMORY OP 



MY FATHER, 

A VALIANT SOLDIER OF THE CROSS, 



WHO HIMSELF 



FELL ON THE FIELD 



DURING THIS LAST LUSTRE, 



THESE PAGES 



ARE DEDICATED 



APOLOGY. 

That the title of this Poem may not appear inappro- 
priate^ the author would state that the greater part of it 
was written tioo years ago. Causes heyond control have 
latterly delayed the pvhlication of a song not then in- 
tended for the world. If the reader will consider the 
" Last Lustre'''* as intended for the years previous to the 
writing^ and not the publication of this voluine., he will 
understand hetter its motto / cmd will confess that no 
five years' space in the worWs history has produced 
inore giants in true valor^ than this Last Ltostre of aii 
age that false reformers term degenerate. 

The author hopes to be pardoned in that he has left 
the beaten path of modern poetry^ and^ after the spirit 
of the ancient masters of the art., has chanted^ in strains 
that perhaps lack the sentimentality of the love-song., the 
noble deeds of Heroes. 

OCTOBER, 1858. 



PROEM. 

O Heart of Man ! one, ever, and the same, 
"WTiatever age, whatever country claim 
Thy birth, — for, in the ancient fields of Time, 
(So silent now their silence is sublime !) 
From sere and falling boughs the fruit depends 
In ripened loveliness, the same that bends 
The sturdy tree of this the latest age : — 

Great Heart of Man ! whose honored heritage 
Is holy love, God's primal thought which erst 
Upon infinity in star-words burst; 
Which lit those lamps that with undying ray 
Light weary souls upon their heavenward way: 
Eternal love, pure and serene, the bow 
Spanned from God's throne to his footstool below, 
Beaming through all the storms and mists of earth 



8 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

That cloud the radiance of our heavenly birth, 
The certain pledge of peace that is to come, 
And in its shadow make on earth her home : 

Strong Heart of Man ! that ever hast withstood 
Fetter, and chain, and badge of servitude ; 
Firm in the right, and fearless in the fray 
Wherever Wrong her horrid host array ; 
Yet, generous in thy strength, dost mercy show, 
And bend, a brother, o'er the fallen foe ; 
Dost hang thy banner on the mind's grim walls, 
And where the clash of reason's conflict calls, 
Shod with eternal love, thy w^illing feet 
Hie swift, on mercy's godlike errand fleet; 
Then up through Heaven's high portals borne afar, 
In whispered blessing dies the din of war : 

True Heart of Man ! that by a golden thread 
Unitest all the living with the dead; 
IJnitest all the living in one band. 
Who, soul by soul, make up Life's shifting strand 
By Time's waves washed, and lost, as even he, 
In the thick shadows of Eternity ! 



PROEM. 9 

Unitest all on earth with all above, 

By that one golden ray of godlike love — 

Ray that has travelled through the realms of space, 

Sphere-like its pathway without trail or trace. 

Yet, in the beauty that it wakes on earth, 

Reveals to man the secret of its birth ; 

Awaking here an echo of the song 

Whose chorus Heaven's angelic host prolong : — 

(Caught by the spheres as ever on they flee. 

Loud swells the hymn throughout infinity ; 

While, as their voices rise in joyous tone, 

Shouteth each sun-king from his lurid throne. 

Until the anthem, circling through all space. 

In human hearts, at last, finds resting place ; 

That strand, on which the waves of heavenly song. 

Dashing the star-bound shores of space along. 

And arching Heaven with rainbow-jewelled spray, 

In music break, and gently fade away:) 

True as the gold by fiery test refined ; 
Strong as the w^ind that dwelleth unconfined, 



10 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Whether it lull the violet to sleep, 

Or rouse to rage the guardians of the deep ; 

Great as thy home the Universe, and full, 

As it with suns, of treasure wonderful — 

O brother Heart! A pilgrim for a time, 

Life for thy road, but Heaven thy proper clime. 

List while I strive to wake a kindred strain. 

And touch the chord struck never yet in vain ! 



I. 



I. 

Beyond the Frost-king's marble-pillared den ; 
Beyond tlie farthest haunts of living men ; 
Beyond the frozen tracks of deej^-fanged bear; 
Beyond the sea-calf's icy-covered lair; 
Far from the circling sweep of Arctic bird; 
Far from the echoes by his swift flight stirred; 
Far from the ISTorthern Light's fleet, sparkling smile, 
The brightening moon, and stars' far-splendoring wile ; 
Far from the fitful favors of the Day, 
And, from the wayward frowns of E'ight, away; 
(Ambitious E'ight, who rent her husband's throne, 
And £:irt her murderous heart with diamond zone 
In vain, — his golden crown outshines its glare, 
And with its splendor awes the yielding air!) 
There holds the Sun his everlasting reign, 



14 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

And laughs in triumpli o'er the usnrj)er slain. 
The universal air above his head, 
The depthless sea beneath his feet outspread; 
Silence the mighty viceroy who with sway 
Boundless as his, sees earth and sky obey; 
Swift at his nod the breezes hold their breath, 
Till Echo voiceless yields her unto death. 
High on the j)eak that glitters far away, 
The sleepless sunbeam holds a warder's sway. 
And, jealous, blinds the curious eyes that dare 
The charmed precincts of its golden lair. 
In silence throned, upon this silent sea 
The sun bends smiling from Infinity! 

ISTo earthly keel has ploughed this virgin deep ; 
'No wave has seen the stealthy sliadow creep 
Upon its breast, of mast, or sail, or shroud, 
'Nov rij^pling crest to mortal prow has bowed. 
No human ken has conned its riches o'er. 
Or traced the wanderings of its devious shore ; 
A mortal eye has seen, mayhap, afar, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 15 

Its distant waters twinkling like a star: — 

The Indian of the snow-encircled coast 

Has stood and gazed, in childish wonder lost, 

Or tried in vain, to scan with practised eye 

The limits of its wide immensity ; 

He never dared upon its breast to float 

Tlie precions treasure of his fragile boat — • 

He feared the tempest's furious breath would sweep 

His tiny vessel from the cradling deep ; 

Or golden spear, or bolt of deadly Are, 

Transfix the victim of a sun-king's ire. 

What spirits revel there, I cannot tell : 
Perchance the breath of rising breeze may swell 
Their tiny sails, who weave with nimble hand 
The frosty veil that decks the Autumnal land ; 
Or those fair sprites who in their bosom hold 
The snowy plumes that grace the wintry wold, 
Frolic on fairy foot from wave to wave, 
And in its foam their pallid beauty lave. 
Hasting to sow broadcast o'er earth's rich fields 



16 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Tlie snowy seed tliat foaming torrents yields ! 
"When high commission from their king they bear, 
Perhaps they shake npon the slumbering air 
The keys that lock the brook — and rivers close — 
And chain the mountain in his robe of snows ; 
Until the frightened breeze, awaked from sleep, 
Flies, still increasing, o'er tlie boiling deej). 
Freighted with dreams of direst ocean storms, 
And death drawn fearful in a thousand forms. 
The tiny servants of the great Frost-king 
Across its depths their silent courses wing ; 
They bear the vials of their master's wrath 
To pour upon the summer's golden path — 
Blood-red the trail where pass their trusty feet. 
And fallen leaves their vengeful footsteps greet ; 
The bald tree bends before their icy breath. 
And leaf and flower yield trembling unto death : 
But pure and gentle as a seraph's prayer. 
Borne like a feather through the nursing air. 
Hastes o'er the wave the winter's parting breath, 
To tint the verdure of the earth's spring wreath. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 17 

Some dream, upon the conlines where the stars 
First break the despot Day-god's golden bars, 
The joyful orbs keep echo of the strain 
That ushered in their calm and holy reign. 
When, at Creation's birth, God's creatures sang 
Till Heaven and Hell with their wild praises rang : 
Oh ! does there swell across this unknown sea 
The music of such heavenly harmony? 
Perhaps the angel ministers who light 
The glowing fires that lamp our gloomy night, 
Across its waters trail their glittering train. 
To fill their censers in the sunbeams' fane — 
While Ocean treasures in his world-wide lieart 
These gorgeous scenes that o'er his mirror dart. 

What glories rare have passed before its gaze 
And filled its pulsing bosom with amaze ; 
What angel footsteps gambol o'er its waves ; 
What magic skiff its tranquil water laves ; 
What heavenly eyes have drooped up<.)n its breast. 
And by its murmur soothed, have clo^ed to rest ; 



2 



18 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LTJSTEE. 

What silver wing lias skimmed this maiden deep, 

Or met its tiny crestcaps' frolic leap ; 

What unseen monsters in its caverns play, 

Or through its waters cleave their sparkling way; 

What living motes upon the sunbeams ride. 

And dip their beauty in the laughing tide ; 

What birds are wearied by the yoke of gold 

The sunrays o'er their shining feathers hold; 

What glittering messengers as guardians stand. 

To hold the stars within a golden band — 

Or in the corners of high heaven keep 

Their ceaseless watch upon the azure steep, 

And far outstretched, with skilful hands that bear 

The yellow curtain of the noonday air — 

I cannot tell ; for never mortal sail 

Has crossed its waves to bring the wondrous tale. 

That virgin sea is meet to bear thy name, 
O Fkanklin, noble martyr-child of Fame — 
Deep as thy heart its soundless waters are. 
Like thy pure life no earthly taint they bear ! 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 19 

Or scarce less honored, thine, intrepid Kane, 
Meet dweller in the same Immortal Fane ! 
"When fell Fame's tears npon his honored grave, 
Earth to her love thy manly conrage gave — 
Than him ne'er mother wept a nobler son, 
Or gained so soon, in thee, as dear an one ! 
Let Faith, and Hope, and patient Love receive 
The crown that Earth is generous yet to give. 



20 THE HEKOES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 



n. 

Slowly, slowly as a cloud 

Creeping up tlie field of blue, 
Hold we now our trailless path 

Seas and icy deserts through : 
In a snowy vestment swathed, 

Shrouded as the white-robed hills, 
Flitting ghost-like through the deep 

Wheresoe'er the current wills. 
Seem we still more grim and ghastly 

Tlian the giant bergs that speed 
On their silent mission by us, 

]^or our pigmy vessels heed. 

The sun in rising splendor 

Glancing proudly o'er the scene, 
Bathes the pyramid gigantic 

In a purple, glowing sheen ; 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 21 

Liglits the shapely marbled tower 

Into festive brilliancy, 
And with rainbow-fingered hand 

Decks the clonds resplendently ; 
Not half such gorgeous beauty 

Steals upon the enchanted brain 
Of the wildered Eastern dreamer 

Sunk beneath the drug's wild reign ! 

l^ow the distant starry choir 

Chant the tired Earth's evensong, 
As in gold and purple raiment 

Through the paths of space they throng. 
Lo ! the ITorth Light's fiery footsteps 

Spangle all the dusky arch, 
On the waiting, bending sky 

Hanging jewels in its march; 
As a Heaven-reaching ladder 

With angelic faces bright. 
It bridges with its glories 

The deep darkness of the night. 



22 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Girt with splendors yet we dream 

Of the homes we left behind ; 
In each far-off hearthstone still 

Are our hopes and love enshrined. 
Still the ruddj hand of Morn 

Hasting from the distant shore 
Where our hearts are centred, brings 

Fairest flowers from Memory's store — 
Still the peaceful, nun-like Even 

Comes with prayers and blessings bright, 
Learned from dearest lips outpouring 

All their heart to silent E^ight ! 

Years have mouldered in their tomb, 

Since, like clouds at set of sun, 
We watched them melt in darkness. 

Snow-white cliffs of Albion ! 
We miss the golden flashing 

Of the slender, summer grain. 
And the fairy-fingered flowers 

Staining all the grassy plain : 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 23 

And we miss tlie merry voices, 

And the fireside's homely cheer, 

Loving looks, and words of — Hush ! 
For I feel the coward tear. 

Courage ! courage ! gallant comrades ! 

!N"iglit will pass, though dark and dreary. 
And the day will bring the sunshine 

To the fainting heart and weary. 
Think no more of home and pleasure, — 

Drive these misty damps away — 
Sun-like, let our full-orbed purpose 

Bring again the perfect day! 
Onward, onward is the watchword — 

Hearts are stout, and brave, and true — 
Never sighing or repining. 

It is ours to live, and do ! 

We are passing through a temple 

Made by God's own viewless hand — 
Far more glorious this than any 



24 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Builded shrines on eartli tliat stand : 
He upheaved these icy cohnnns, 

And He smoothed yon snowy nave, 

And the Sun, for aye His servant — 
For His worship) here, He gave ! 

His own faithful arm, remember, 
Is about our lonely path, 

Whe'ther earthly or celestial 

Is the home for us He hath ! 

Cheering thus their drooping hearts, with courageous 
glance and song. 

These lion-hearted heroes through the ocean wandered 
long — 

"Wandered far o'er pathless coast through the icy- 
channeled sea, 

Where the Frost-king on his throne holds unceasing 
jubilee ! 

l^ot the golden fleece they sought, but a silver shroud 
they found, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 25 

That in snowy bands the ship and the stiffened sailor 

bound — 
Bound their heart in icy grasp — locked their hand in 

frozen chain — 
Glazed the piercing, merry eye — held in death the 

busy brain. 
Tell me, O thou Wind, that murmuredst o'er their 

sleep a lullaby. 
Where is noble Franklin sleeping, with his gallant 

company ? 
Didst thou catch their dying sigh — didst thou watch 

the soul depart? 
And bearest thou their blessings in thy world -em- 
bracing heart ? 
Or murmuring deceitful, didst thou lull them with 

sweet sound, 
Till around their frozen corpses thy treacherous arms 

were wound ? 
Wert thou the snow-storm's charger, heading in thy 

rapid flight 



26 THE HEEOES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 

Myriad ghostly columns sweeping on in overwhelm- 
ing might 

Till they crushed the feeble ship— while thy dreadful 
chorus swept, 

In a hellish hymn of triumph, o'er the white tomb 
where they slept? 

Last eve in dreams I saw them ! I was standing in 

the night — 
There was darkness at my feet, and above I saw no 

light : 
Moon and stars had hid their faces in a dank, mist- 
fingered hand- 
And the earth shrank from the clouds — and the mists 

frowned on the land. 
Long I gazed with earnest glance, till there seemed 

a frozen coast 
Dimly rising from the waves which were frozen as 

they tossed — 
Frozen, frozen, all was frozen, till the very air it 

seemed 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 27 

To be freezing all my veins and my heart-strings 
while I dreamed ! 

There they stood, those brave twin sisters, stricken in 
their race with death! 

In mockery about them he had hung a snowy 
wreath. 

Half across the glassy decks of the ships one wave 
was hurled. 

Which had crystalled as it flew; and the little rip- 
ples curled 

Still around the frozen prow, but their liveliness was 
gone : 

The sails seemed cut of marble, and the ropes were 
carved of stone ! 

There they stood, twin marble fanes, carved by view- 
less artist hand. 

Built for worshippers unseen on the distant lonely 
strand : 

Or as if a bridal pair, in a garb of white arrayed, 

The iceberg was their altar, and the wind a paean 
played ! 



28 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Swing the glassy door in silence on its rusty iron 

hinge ; 
How it glitters in the darkness, the sparkling frosty 

fringe ! _ 

O God ! what ghastly faces, with a fixed and stony 

gaze. 
Are staring into mine with the look that never 

strays ! 
As if some quaint old sculptor, in crazed or morbid 

mood. 
Had bent the stubborn marble into lifelike atti- 
tude. 
The crew around were clustered in that charnel-house 

of death, — 
Promethean statues, waiting only for the quickening 

breath ! 
Oh, that fearful, fearful dream! let me drive it from 

my sight — 
For still its steps pursue me through the shadows of 

the night. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 29 

Then I wandered in my dreams ; and a spirit led me 
where 

The purple Arctic sunlight spread its glory through 
the air. 

I saw a little graveyard, crouched beneath a moun- 
tain's side, 

Where the wind that swept the plain in a gentle 
murmur died ; 

And the sun had crowned so splendently the grave- 
yard's clustered host. 

That I fancied them an angel-band, on earth in slum- 
ber lost ; 

Their white wings folded peacefully above each gen- 
tle breast, 

While a golden coronet there seemed on each fair 
brow to rest. 

Was this their peaceful death-couch — or was theirs a 
fearful end ? 

Alas ! nor earth, nor sea, nor sky, an answering sign 
may send. 



30 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 

But one true heart still watclies by England's distant 

shore, 
And listens for tlie footsteps she will greet, oh 1. nev- 
ermore ! 
Tliough hopes have faded one by one from every 

manly breast, 
Or, stranded on Despair's dim shore, have sunk for 

aye to rest — 
Yet love burns high within her soul, and prompts the 

trustful prayer. 
That still some strong arm stretched from Heaven the 

good ship home may bear. 
It casts its holy splendor far upon his wandering 

path. 
The torch-fire of her woman's love, the beacon of her 

faith ! 
O sunlight heart of woman, ever radiant, ever bright. 
Though the clouds from earth's dull hearth strive to 

hide thy glowing light. 
Yet we know that far above them thou hast thine 

eternal throne, ^ 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 31 

And dost compass earth and clouds with thy beam- 
ing, siinnj zone ! 

Take comfort, noble woman ; though thy Franklin has 
no tomb 

Where love unsympathizing flies the marble's chilling 
gloom, 

He has made his grave for aye in the nations' world- 
wide heart, 

And while it beats, his memory from earth will ne'er 
depart. 

Oh, better far the life npon his country's altar laid. 

And better far the high command of duty well 
obeyed, 

Than the life of slothful ease, and the hours of dull 
repose. 

That like cloudless days of summer in weary languor 
close. 

Around his glowing sunset gathered clouds of bright- 
est hue. 

Till the Night-queen reigned her steeds the glorious 
sight to view ! 



32 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 

Still where his sun at noonday disappeared from 
earthly sight, 

Hearts are clustered thick as stars mourning his un- 
timely flight ; 

Still gorgeous clouds of triumph are decking all the 

sky, 

And thunder-tones of praises roll a regal symphony. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 33 



ni. 

Lost, oli lost! 
Heard you the busy breeze 
Whisper the listening trees, 
Till sighing in accord 
They caught the dreadful word, 
While high their bleak arms tossed? 
Lost, oh lost ! 

Lost, oh lost ! 
The bursting ocean wave 
A voice to sorrow gave. 
And as its foaming crest 
Sank on the sea's deep breast, 
Muttered the sad accost — 
Lost, oh lost ! 

Lost, oh lost ! 
A stout and valiant soul, 

3 



34 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

A manly heart and whole, 
Duty's true soldiers they — 
The swiftest to obey, 

Though death their straight path crossed- 
Lost, oh lost ! 

Lost, oh lost! 
A true and steadfast man, 
First in thp world's great van ; 
Whose name without a spot 
No more for aye forgot. 
Will be his country's boast. 
Lost, oh lost ! 

Lost, oh lost ! 
Proclaim it, royal wind, 
• King of the unconfined ! 

Tlie mountain pathways scale, — 
Breathe in the rustic vale, — 
The faithful at his post, 
Lost, oh lost ! 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 35 

Lost, oh lost ! 
A woman's loving voice, 
Mute at the step of jojs. 
Pleads through rebellious tears, — 
Still looking from her fears 
For him she loves the most : 
Lost, oh lost ! 

Lost, oh lost ! 
Will never kindly heart 
Upon the mission start? 

Oh, prayer shall fill his sail, 
And calm the hostile gale, 
And save him tempest-tossed. 
Lost, oh lost ! 

Earth's heart aroused it at the pleading prayer — 
Shook off its gilded trappings, and laid bare 
The inborn riches in its soundless deep 
Far from the daylight's common glare that sleep : 
Heart vied with heart, and hand with eager hand. 



36 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Each to be foremost in the generous band. 
True souls shook off the sloth of selfish dreams, 
And ope'd their fountains to the sunlight's beams, 
Founts that beneath the ice of self reposed. 
Or in their youth the stony world had closed. 

America ! then were thy heart-strings swept 
By the sad wail that o'er Atlantic crept ! 
Thus, stealing o'er the slight ^olian string, 
The breeze but brushed it with a stealthy wing, 
Yet not too light to wake the tuneful throng 
Lurking within its breast, of matchless song — 
And louder, sweeter swells the full-choired gale 
Answered, responsive, from the mount and vale : 
But purer, less of earth and more of Heaven, 
That burst of grief for missing Franklin given ; 
One holds entranced, mayhap, a listening world- 
To hear the other, angel wings were furled. 

Then Commerce threw aside her golden mask, 
And Mammon bent him to the unwonted task ; 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 3T 

Then to our dimmed and narrowed sight was given 
The nearest glimpse that earth may have of Heaven. 
O God ! it was a splendid sight to see 
Such spark of Heaven in dull humanity ! 

As from the ramparts of their city spring 
An angel twain, and cleave with snowy wing 
The azure waves that break in light upon 
Tlie sapphire shore of every distant sun — 
With gladness fired they from their Master's throne 
Bear life to breathe upon some far-off zone : 
So from the shelter of our western world 
Two little barks their snowy sails unfurled, 
And on their joyous path of mercy sped, 
A brother's love o'er brothers' hearts to shed. 
We saw their white wings, wafting them afar, 
Set in the ocean like a tiny star ; 
Two nations' hopes were shining in its ray, 
Two nations' prayers pressed on its gleaming way — 
Oh, may that orb upon our lost ones rise, 
And gladden with its beams their yearning eyes I 



38 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

The snn bends lingering, with golden smile, 
O'er three rongh graves that furrow Beechy Isle ; 
The wrinkled cliff hangs half-protecting o'er 
These silent dwellers on a stranger shore. 
And gazing down his brow more kindly seems, 
And lights with love beneath the sunset beams. 
" Sacred," the humble words of sorrow tell, 
" To those who served their God and country well." 
This the sole record that the chill earth gave — 
Alas ! no word was given from the wave. 

Yet not alone — oh, sadder far to see 
The relics of their lonely misery : 
The tale of hardship written there they found 
On mound and ruin — graven all around. 
The garden — ^but no fruit or flower within ; 
The hearth, forsaken, told w^hat they had seen, — 
The scanty meal — the chilled and starving crew — 
Our direst dream of woe, alas ! made true. 
But where were they, the missing martyr-band? 
Fled to the chill embraces of the land 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 39 

Whose virgin bosom, white with dazzling snows, 

Allures the wanderer to his last repose ! 

Upon its mother's frozen, marble breast, 

The heart it covered sunk at last to rest, 

Her infant hangs, and strives with piteous moan 

To draw some nurture from its orb of stone : 

Poor babe ! alas, that ever mother's breast 

Should for her young provide so chill a nest I 

Thus beautiful and cold, and drear and bare, 

Earth spreads her bosom to the Arctic air. 

And offers nothing but a dream and death 

To those who first in her fond arms drew breath: 

So close her arms around the true and brave 

Who follow Duty but to find a grave. 



40 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 



lY. 

Oh ! Hope is like a star ! 

That sends its rays afar 
Through the dank mists and night's blackness 
streaming ; 

And fainting hearts of earth 

At its distant, twinkling birth 
In gladness lift them np to its beaming. 

Oh ! Hope is like the moon ! 

Night's best and richest boon, 
O'er the earth soft and silver raiment throwing ; 

When she lifts her white-plumed crest 

From her dim and dingy nest, 
'Neath her wings mark all things in beauty growing. 

Oh ! Hope is like the sun ! 
When his march has begun, 
How the earth fills with mirth at his greeting! 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 41 

And the little starry fear 
That has dared his head iiprear, 
At the glance of his lance flies the meeting ! 

Months passed — yet Hope on Fancy's wing 

Explored the earth, the sea and air, 
And Love wherever Hope could cling 

Would fly to build her fond dreams there. 
Days brought no tidings of the lost — 

The lost, the loved, oh where were they ? 
Weeks from the lap of Time were tossed, 

And floated silently away; 
And now Despair with stealthy tread 

Entered each heart's half-opened door, 
But Love on jealous pinion sped. 

Closed it, and sat, as guard, before. 
Down from the Korth with shriek and cry 

The wild wind poured his sweeping horde ; 
We listened as his train passed by. 

We could not catch nor sign nor word. 
We sought the graving quaint, the frost 



42 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

On lawn and leaf, and lakelet leaves, 
And all (to day and sunlight lost) 

The mystic scrolls tlie snow-sprite weaves : 
The white-winged winter-angels flew 

O'er Summer's desolated hearth. 
And gently as a mother drew 

Their coverlet o'er naked earth ; 
Far o'er the land their white host roved. 

But ghostlike fled at Spring's first breath, 
And left no message from our loved — 

Our loved who kept their watch with death ! 

A small, but noble-hearted band. 

For dreary days, and drearier miles. 
They travelled through the northern land. 
Across the hard and barren strand 

The sun but greets with summer smiles. 
Their tent was curtained with the snow ; 

Their guide the glittering, cold l^orth-star; 
For drink they bade the snow-heap flow ; 

Their food — they brought it from afar, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 43 

For on these plains no lierb can grow ; 
Yet kept they trustful heart, and stout ; 
The fire within — that ne'er burned out. 

The storm stretched out his hand, 

And dreadful was his form, 

The angry, howling storm, 
And with a frosty curtain hid the land, 

The raging, sweeping storm ! 

The storm brought forth his steed. 

From his pasture unconfined 

Tlie strong and cruel wind. 
And lashed him panting to his fiercest speed, 

The swift and treacherous wind I 

The storm arrayed his host. 

The keen-lanced hail and snow, 

The myriad, whelming snow. 
And with his ghostly army swept the coast, 

Of hail and wine^ed snow ! 



44 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

The snow, tlie merry snow, 

'Twas a gentle strain it played ; 

It came with, timid step and slow, 

Like the feet of a blushing maid ; 

And it fell and sank in its earthy cnp, 

And the thirsty earth-clods di-aiik it up ! 

The merry snow ! 

The snow, the merry snow, 

'Twas a strange, wild strain it played ; 
Tlie lithe flakes staggered to and fro 

Like Bacchanals on a raid ; 
Then they made on the ground a downy nest, 
And sank in sleep on each other's breast ! 

The merry snow ! 

The snow, the merry snow, 

'Twas a terrible strain it played ; 

Down and on marched its white-plumed row 
And swept with its host the glade ; 

Its banner was hung upon every tree, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 45 

And the white hills tented its soldiery 1 

The meriy snow ! 

The snow, the merry snow, 

It ceased its varied strain, 
And bade the wearied wanderers go. 

And their loved and lost regain ; 
It curtained their tent, and gave them drink, 
And smoothed their path to the ocean's brink ! 

The merry snow! 

They reached at last a distant coast: 
And here, by some strange fortune tossed, 

In misery and famine bound. 

With snow and silence all around, 
An Indian settlement they found. 
The Indians, when they spied the face 

Of white man, drew them in their tent, 

And aid and kindly succor lent ; 
And soon unfolded to their gaze 

Their treasures — relics of our lost, 



46 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 



J 



The lost and loved, the true and brave 
"Who far away had found a grave, 

Thrown starving on this savage coast. 

By their low huts, oh joy! they found — 
Alas! it was a funeral mound. 

Their fate they sought by signs to know; 
And from their uncouth gestures crept 
Such sense of suffering and woe 

That e'en the stoutest sailor wept. 
These told how in the iceberg's grip, 
Shattered, had sunk their noble ship ; 
How famine shrank each manly cheek. 
And bowed the strong, and crushed the weak ; 
How nobly clung they side by side. 
And held them up against the tide — 
But how at last, they drooped and died. 

They sought if any there could tell 

In words what signs had limned full well: 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 4 

Then thus an Indian woman spoke — 
Yet sometimes rising grief would choke, 
And tears adown her swarthy face 
In rapid flight would wildly chase, 
As down the dusky cheek of Night 
The falling stars hold glittering flight : 

" 'Twas here, upon this little isle — 

In winter-time a dreary pile 

Of wall and tower of sea-tossed ice, 

Fit for a l^orseman's paradise ; 

But now by rays of midnight sun 

To some rude look of beauty won — 

Here landed in the stormy night. 

Three winters since, (if I count right 

The suns since then that set and rose 

Upon this wilderness of snows,) 

A little, haggard, pilgrim band, 

Seeking the shelter of the strand 

To die — ^for they were pale and bowed. 

And fragile as the noonday cloud : 



48 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

White as the mummied hills around, 

In swathing snow-shroud ever bound, 

Standing in this great crjpt of Time 

Sameness and silence make sublime ! 

Or like the Ice-king's frozen breath. 

When, dreaming on his fleecy heath. 

Creatures of thin and flimsy mould 

To ghastly life by it are foaled. 

We thought them drifting clouds of snow, 

As sometimes sudden whirlwinds blow 

The curling sleet, until the coasts 

Seem stormed and sieged by armied ghosts : 

So pale and gaunt and shadowy they, 

They seemed the di*eams of men made clay ! 

"Here crouched beneath this little hill. 
Their snow-huts ; by this frozen rill 
They placed their only boat — alas ! 
They knew not it would never pass 
The buoyant wave again, but rot 
Upon this shore, with them, forgot; 



THE HEROES OF THE LA.ST LUSTRE. 4:9 

Here is the only fragment, see ! 

A shadow of its braverj. 
Here was their home — there is their grave — 
"Where watch and ward keep wind and wave. 

" I pass the fearful winter by ; 

The cold that glazed the living eye ; 

The famine that with maddening hand 

Clutched at the heart-strings of their band; 

(We sometimes brought them food, but we 

Could share with them but poverty ;) 

The storm that urged his furious host 

Sudden and swift along the coast. 

And with his sword the wind, that rent 

The icy curtains of their tent ; 

The home mementos, one by one, 

To feed the flame that warmed them, gone ; 

The Death that furled his pallid wing 

And sat upon their hearthstones, king ! 

To whom they daily bent the knee 

And owned his fearful sovereignty. 

4 



50 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LrSTEE. 

Yet, morn and eve, we oft could hear 
The full hymn rising sweet and clear; 

High o'er the tempest's shriek it rose — 
It dirged the twilight's peaceful close. 
When (for an angel's voice they heard) 
The listening echoes never stirred. 

"The Midnight Sun rose shining now 
Upon their graves' long, peaceful row, 
Where side by side they calmly slept, 
While tearful watch the living kept. 

The living ! oh, more dead were they I 
Pale as the twilight ghost of day. 
Gaunt, ghastly forms of pulsing clay : 
Day after day they drooped and died, 
And Life and Death dwelt side by side. 
One still survived : I saw him stand 
Alone upon the mocking strand, 
And stretch his hands towards the sea, 
And call and sigh most mournfully. 
He was the largest of them all, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 61 

Of strongest frame and gaunt and tall ; 
Only such strength as his could bear 
The breathing of our frozen air ; 

Yet he was wasting day bj day, 

As mists at sunrise fade away, 

Pierced by the sunbeam's fiery ray. 
Alone he lived — if living be 
To share a couch with misery; 
JSTor yet alone — starvation kept 
His watch above him while he ^lept, 
And eked him, when awake, a scrap 
Torn from the frozen ocean's lap : 

His drink was of the melted snow — 

'Twas all around, above, below! 

"I daily saw him bending o'er 

A little spot up from the shore. 

Where first the sunbeams sought the ground. 

I wondered oft what he had found, 

Some little plant or northern flower 

In sunny nook that makes its bower; 



52 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Or little creature of the earth : 
I knew that it had given birth 
To some strange thoughts of sad unrest 
Within the lonely stranger's breast; 
For I had marked him dash, one day, 
The tear-drops from his cheek away, 
As fast they fell, while he bent o'er 
His shrined treasure on the shore. 

" One morn I took a dish of food, 
And softly stepping by him stood 
Before he heard, then proffered held 
What once his starving pride repelled. 
A moment gazing, then he took 
The gift with tearful, thankful look. 
That carried blessings, and he strove 
By wistful eye his thanks to prove. 
If you have marked the l^orthern Light, 
Hasting to crown the waiting niglit, 
Fade soft into the tender ray 
. That makes night lovlier than the day, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 53 

So seemed his face while fitful smile 

Lit up its saddened look the while. 

It must have been, in that sad dearth 

Of any kindly thing of earth, 

Some comfort once again to hear ^ 

A human voice, though to his ear 

The accents were uncouth and rude 

That broke his utter solitude ; 

And once again to meet an eye 

Upraised to his in sympathy. 

" I often came. We sat, we two, 
Though neither's words the other knew, 
And smiled and talked by sign and look, 
Each other's faces our best book : 
Yet I would learn ; and soon I knew 
Enough to gain his story's clue. 
He told me of his English home, 
The dear spot he had journeyed from, 
That nevermore again should know 
His footstep ; and the fireside glow. 



64 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

The beacon lighted all in vain 
For one 'twill never greet again. 
The eyes — oh, brighter far, he said — 
"Whose tears flowed over him as dead ; 
The while fond Love ontwatched Despair, 
And cried, at every step, 'He's there.' 
He told how rainbows bent them down 
Upon the sward; and golden crown 
Of grain upon the hillside shone, 
And girt the land with sunny zone. 
I asked if he feared not the while 
He stayed caged in this little isle. 
Some foe would smite his distant home 
Until its hearth-fires sank in gloom: 
Then up he looked, and with a smile 
(It made my heart beat high the while) 
He spread his hands abroad in air, 
'Woman, my God is everywhere.' 

" We in our simple legends tell 
Of angels wont with man to dwell, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 55 

Till frightened at a brother's blood 

Poured out to calm some hellish mood, 

On glittering wing afar thej fled: 

And then this pall of ice o'erspread 

The fated land, which once had shone 

In rival richness with the sun. , 

Afar they fled; their wings they furled 

Far from the clamors of the world; 

Yet in the night you still can see 

Their tent-fires shining distantly. 

That cloud above — a mist it seems; 

With myriad angel forms it teems, 

Clustered so close, each angel face 

Sinks in another's pure embrace. 

Again they'll come (so runs our lore), 
And crown with loveliness this shore. 

I thought when first he spake, that he 

Was of this angel company ; 

And half I feared, and looked my awe: 

But he, when such a look he saw. 

Would speak of God, and of his love, 



56 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

The Saviour-God for man who strove; 
Until at morn and eve I knelt 
To yield to God the love I felt. 

"He took me to the little spot 

Of which I told — a tiny plot 

Of barren ground ; yet in his eyes 

In all the North no lovelier prize : 

For here, thrown out by heedless hand, 

Or sown in hope on that bleak strand, 

A seed, by kindly sunbeam reared, 

Peeped timidly, as if it feared 

In this strange clime the northern wind 

A shroud of snow would 'round it bind. 

A slender stick (hewn from a boat 

!Never again on wave to float) 

Supported it; while fast it hung. 

And with its tendrils closely clung : 

One sweet white flower was half outspread, 

Scenting the breeze that by it fled ; — 

Its pure white face, its dress of green, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 57 

The fairest picture ever seen. 
Daily it throve, and filled the air 
With wondrous songs of sweetness rare. 

"He loved it as a little child, 
That stout old sailor; it beguiled 
The drearj hours of lonely thought. 
And home-scenes to his memory brought. 
I knew his life was wrapt in it ; 
Oft have I watched him, musing, sit 
And smile as if the flower had thrown 
Its arms about him, and had grown 
Into his heart, and blooming there, 
With sweetest fragrance filled the air. 
So close to his lone heart it clung, 
Such home-born sweets around it flung, 
I knew that should it droop and die. 
With its frail life his life would fly. 

"I looked — I could no longer see; 
The burning tears were blinding me.. 



58 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Then down I sat upon the sands, 
And hid my face within my hands, 
Till I could some control regain. 
A moment — ^I looked np again — 
And as the glancing sunlight shone 
His richly yellow locks upon. 
He seemed as oftentimes he told 
How martyrs shone in crowns of gold. 
But well I marked his cheek had paled, 
And death-lines o'er his face had trailed 
And left their footprints on his brow. 
So ghastly thin had he grown now, 
Pallid and gaunt, he seemed to be 
More ghost than of mortality. 
I knew Death's seal; and more I wept; 
And closer to his side I crept. 
And took his hand, and tried to prove, 
If homeless, he had still found love. 

" 'Twas summer-time : but whether mom, 
Or eve, or midday, or night's dawn. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 59 

I could not tell. The Midnight Sun 

His long, long course had nearly run : 

And now he rested on the peak 

Of yon great iceberg grimly bleak, 

But over which he then had thrown 

His loosened garments' fiery zone. 

Until it, gorgeous, seemed to be , 

A palace lit for revelry ; 

And gazing up, the humbler hills 

In wonder stared, as growing rills 

Of splendor poured adown their side 

And swept the land with molten tide. 

There he, upon its battlement 

In golden splendor idly leant ; 

Gazing uj)on his boundless sway, 

On every side stretched far away; 

Or dreaming of the dead, perchance. 

Who'd sought a grave in his loved haunts : 

And then his glance fell soft and long 

Upon the graveyard's little throng, 



60 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

As loath to leave to dreary niglit 
The spot his love so long made bright. 

" I know not why, but I felt awed : 

The icy desert seemed so broad ; 

The pale-browed mountains frowned on me, 

It seemed in tenfold majesty ; 

And ocean kept his deep-green eye 

Glittering upon me wistfully, 

As coiled in many a wavy fold 

Against the slimy cliff and cold, 

He hid his tongue of hissing spray 

And slumbered watchful for his prey. 

The wind was hushed ; the breeze had died ; 

My very breathing terrified ; 

As lightly gliding from my tent, 

Forth on my wonted way I went. 

" God ! the flower was crushed and dead ! 
Afar its pure young life had fled — 
The flower ! I scarcely paused to see 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 61 

Its wliite cheek sullied ruthlessly. 

I saw but it! It was not he, 

That clod of pale mortality ! 

"With iron stride the death had come, 

And smote the vigor with the bloom ! 

Spared not the flower, and bowed the tree, 

And stole its heavenly livery ! 

A smile was there — the soul had fled — 

And left me lonely with my dead. 

"The sun upraised his golden spear, 
And, fleeing from the dreadful sight, 
Threw back his shield of blackest night 

Upon the desert white and drear: 
And where his spear-head touched the sky, 
One single star shone mournfully — 
We were alone, the star and I." 



11. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LrSTEE. 65 



Sorrowful stars, so sadly o'er me bending, 

What measures do ye sing ? 
Where have your silent steps through space been 
wending — 

What message do ye bring ? 
What fearful deeds freight now your pallid lips, 
Of faithless love, or life's death-hid eclipse, 

Or joy gone sorrowing? 

We've wandered far o'er earth's dark places shining 
With loving, brightening glance ; 

In our deep hearts her deeds of glory shrining — 
And in her hero haunts. 

Oh ! feats of prowess have we witnessed there, 

Which Fame forever on her tongue shall bear 
The listening world to trance. 



Q6 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Beautiful stars, througli yon blue ocean gleaming ; 

The angels' burnished shells ! 
Your snow-white breasts with heavenly echoes teeming, 

What strain now earthward swells? 
Does Yalor on the field of strife lie dead, 
Or Fame uphold the dying hero's head, 

His loss while Freedom knells? 

We marked the field of death and fiercest warring, 

Where, numberless as we. 
The gory dead the flowery mead lay marriug — 

Sleeping all peacefully 
Tlie hero host lay facing still the foe. 
Still grasped the sword, still bent the desperate brow, 

Still glowered fearfully. 

Glorious stars, in yon great temple swinging, 

The seraphs' rich-voiced bells ! 
Touched by their hands a flood of love far flinging. 

That busy earth compels 
To list its melody — what hero names, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 67 

The world's no longer, but forever Fame's, 
Are these your sweet chime tells ? 

Count thou our host ! As many braves are sleeping 

On far Crimean plain — 
As many hero souls sad hearts are weeping, 

IS'ot here to greet again ! 
But bright as we their names shall shine for aye, 
They shall outlast, with us, earth's little day 

And Time's brief, glow-worm reign I 

Crashing through the rocky vale 
Came the cannon's di'eadfal hail, 
While its wings of thunder made 
Earth, and sea, and sky afraid 

At that first cry of war ! 
Then a thousand voices rent 
O'er the field the sunlight's tent, 

And spread the chorus far. 
Now, rank on rank, their glittering fold 
On the trembling plain unrolled, 



68 THE HEEOES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 

Till the barren autumn wold 

Blazed with gleaming steel and gold, 

Plumes and martial bravery : 
Hed and blue their banners' sheen 
Shone the bristling ranks between, 

Of Gaul and Albion's soldiery ! 

On the rugged mountain height, 
Dense and grey by morning light, 
Long a heavy mist had slept : 
ISTow adown the slope it crept, 
Steady as a torrent, flowing, 
Darker, deeper, denser growing. 
Far and wide its grey arms throwing — 
Till its cheek the sunbeam kissed ; 
Then the dark and silent mist 
Gleamed with serried bayonets' glance. 
Shone with Cossack's glittering lance, 

Blazed with helm, and sword, and spear, 
Bang with orders shrill and clear. 
Pealed with drum's inspiring clang, 



THE HEEOES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 69 

With the trumpet's war-notes rang — 
Finding echoes in the glen 
And the valiant hearts of men ! 

"The Enss !" They come, a gleaming wave 
Of warriors stout, and true, and brave — 

And down the hill it sweeps ! 
" They % !" the coward Moslem % 1 
The crescent droops ingloriously 

Above their murdered heaps! 
Onward through the smoke and din 
Still their way the Kussians win: 
As a wave of ocean, 
In its whirling motion, 
Hurls stone and shell 
On the waiting coast, 

Where its threatening swell 
Is broken and lost, 
So ball and shell, a fearful tide, 
Scatter destruction far and wide, 
From their ranks, glancing, 



70 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LrSTEE. 

Onward advancing! 
Now, Campbell ! on your Highland rock 
Keceive and break the tempest's shock 1 

Nearer — mother, pray, 

For your son this day ! 
As lightning fi'om the heavens sent, 
That flash of deadly fire has rent 

Tlieir bannered host : 
And, like a ship by tempest riven, 
That host about the field is driven, 

In direst tumult tost ! 

Ha ! Scarlett rides before his ranks I 
They sent the strife afar, 
Those glorious steeds of war. 

And hoof resounds, and sabre clanks. 
Now Scot, and Erin's son. 
To-day your heart is one, 
Onward for Albion ! 

It breaks ! the Russian squadron breaks ! 

For a brief moment quivers — shakes — 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSITJE. 71 

Then through their chaff strewn far and wide 
The British cohorts grimly ride, 
And turn and look them for the foe: 
Gone — as when winter whirlwinds blow I 

Brave IS'olan! with the dead 
Thy tearful comrades found 
The corpse whose life had fled 

Forth from the proud breast- wound : 
Peaceful thy rest, 
Bravest and best ! 
Quick o'er the field he spurred 
And brought the waited word : 
" On ! Light Brigade ! On ! on !" he cried, 
And drew his sabre by their side 
To join them in that wild death-ride. 
Onward, each gallant heart replied ; 
Here let the brave 
Find victor's grave. 
O God ! they ride to death ! 
Hushed was each hero's breath, 



72 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

As onward thej sj^ed 
. To enlist with the dead. 
Like a cloud of crimson hue 
In the sunset's lap that grew, 
Crimson flecked with white and gold, 
Sped they o'er the trembling wold ! 
Proudly glancing in the sun, 
How each burnished sabre shone ! 
As a gaping, deep-mouthed cave 
Waits to gulf the crested wave, 
That the merry sunbeams lave, 
So the hollow Russian square 

"Waits the brave 

In its lair. 
Right, and left, and front, they flashed 1 
Through their ranks the iron crashed, 
Deadly as the breath of Hell ! 

Brave six hundred, 

When they thundered, 
Rang your funeral knell. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 73 

But Cardigan was there ! 

Bright flashed his sabre in the air — 

The remnant closed upon his rear 

And onward sped with shout and cheer, 
Not theirs the thought of fear. 

Past the guns like flames they swept, 

At each blow a mother wept ; 

Every comrade's soul that day 

Met a foeman's on its way. 

Sheathed at last the dripping sword, 
O'er the field of death they spurred ; 

Sadly back their course they bore, 

Black with smoke and red with gore. 

That morn six hundred warriors rode 
Across the field of death and blood — 
Two hundred wounded troopers drew 
The rein when fell the evening dew. 

Thus was Balaklava's name 
Written in the Book of Fame. 



74 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 
* * * * 

Angelic stars ! ye souls of Poets pining 

In chains of liquid flame, 
Until, grown pure, within some heart enshrining. 

Earth shall resound your fame : 
Does any hero-hymn from earth arise, 
Or any herald of the silent skies 

A deed for song proclaim? 

Hush ! hear jow from the orphaned earth arising. 

As summer day's last sigh, 
A low, sweet strain of sorrow, sympathizing 

"With the overflowing eye ? 
Oh weep ! And in the boundless heaven of love, 
Each glittering tear unto thy soul shall prove 

A star that ne'er will die. 

Mysterious stars, through dusky cavern flitting, 
Tlie ancient myth-writ leaves, 

That Night, the Sibyl, in her dark fane sitting. 
To suppliant mortal gives — 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 75 

Head me your tale of high and manly worth, 
That like the sj)ring-flower in its very birth 
Tlie waiting hill bereaves. 

l!^ow Spring, with a bright smile diademed, 

And her fresh young cheeks with tear-drops gemmed, 

"Weeping the wrecks of the winter's strife. 

And smiling the tender buds to life. 

Had peeped but once on the barren plain, 

And sobbed a deluge of tender rain — ■ 

Then hid in her frosty bed again. 

Oh, dismal it was within the wood. 

Whose sons, awaiting her coming, stood 

"With arms o'erloaded with branches green, 

(Beneath their brown coats springing unseen,) 

And summer jewels of jasper sheen 

Saved from the whirlwind's searching wrath, 

Eeady to strew in her welcomed path ! 

Dismal it was in the garden plot, 

"Where the Spring's mild rule had been forgot — 

Where the mouldering weed held loathsome reign, 



76 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

And sighed, in cracked and discordant strain. 

To the cooing breeze the golden song 

He had heard the summer buds among. 

And dismal it was upon the hill 

Where the water's clank was never still— 

For the bursting heart of the little rill, 

Held in the ice's pitiless hand 

And tightly bound in its silver band, 

Was throbbing to kiss the foot of Spring, 

And greet her with songs he loves to sing I 

Dismal it was on the barren slope, 

Where the earth's brown hand was once more ope 

For the ring which her Doge, the burning sun, 

Drops her great eager palm upon — 

A glorious ring of dazzling flowers 

Gilt by the sunbeams — jewelled by showers. 

No bud had brightened the hill-side yet. 

But the sweet meek face of the violet — 

Calmly she raised her mild blue eye, 

And gazed unmoved on the frowning sky : 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 77 

Emblem of Faith ! she scented afar 

The breezes that drew the Spring's light car ! 

The cold March wind arose in his might, 

And swept throngh the silent streets of night, 

And scaled the heights of her cloud-wrapt wall, 

Sounding the Winter's dying call. 

Fierce waged the battle — with shriek and cry 

Clamored the wild wind through the sky. 

And dashed his legions against the host 

Of night in numberless numbers lost ! 

Earth groaned in her motherly heart to see 

A struggle that waged so pitilessly. 

But the orbs were thinking of higher themes. 

And dreamed in their couch of blue sweet dreams 

Of saintly souls that were coming to dwell 

In the light of each heavenly citadel : 

!N^ight with a jealous hand had spread 

A curtain of clouds about their bed 

To hide from her darling's sight the scene, 



78 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

And softly tliej slept in slumber serene. 

Grimly tliey towered above tlie fray, 

Crimea's mountain-tops, gaunt and grey: 

They cauglit in their hollow hearts the tone 

Of the panting whirlwind's passionate moan, 

And laughed ^' Ha ! ha !" in their breast of stone ! 

But meekly they raised their snowy head. 

To watch the shining heralds that sped, 

Bearing with joy through the gladdened air 

The incense pure of the soldier's prayer ! 

And there in the voiceless streets of space, 

Borne with the comet's breathless pace 

And footstep of flame, they saw afar 

The winged steeds and the fiery car ! 

'Tw^as coming for him who in rest serene 

On the brow of the deep and dark ravine, 

In dreams through the haunts of his far home roved, 

And looked on the faces that most he loved. 

His wearied men lay sleeping around. 

Pillowed upon the comfortless ground — 

Each shedding his blood, in dreams of strife, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 79 

To quicken his leader's precious life. 

Dream on, O soldier ! O'er tliy soul, in air. 

Poised like an angel stands tlie trustful prayer — 

And, sentinels, beside thy stony couch 

Two hundred valiant hearts of heroes crouch. 

It is the wild-flower blooming on the rich old Eng- 
lish sward. 

Spring's first bright jewel wedded to its fingers brown 
and hard : 

It grows within the valley, 'tis the first dear place it 
greets, 

"Where breeze and brook are battling for the guerdon 
of its sweets. 

Here, in the smiling summer, many dreary years ago. 

The bright buds hung their jealous heads at child- 
hood's ruddier glow. 

And little bare feet dimpled the stream's pale sober 
cheek. 

And made it from its quiet heart a silvery welcome 
speak. 



80 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Its theme is now the curling smoke that rises o'er 
the wood, 

Where the home that held and loved thee in thy 
merry childhood stood : 

Sometimes we hear a mm-mur from its little patient 
heart, 

Mingling with its sweetest songs as an echo-chorus, 
start — 

But we would not breathe the thought, nor trespass 
on the dream 

That perchance, long years ago, woo'd the coy ro- 
mantic stream. 

'No\Y through the valley passing by each well-remem- 
bered tree. 

That in boyhood was a playmate, and will yet a 
mourner be — 

Still thy hospitable home is opening wide its door. 

And weai*s the self-same greeting that in olden times 
it bore : 

And flitting u]) and down the lawn are ghosts of 
days gone by, 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 81 

Poor sprites ! that now are dancing to the music of 

a sigh ! 
Up the cokl stone wall it clambers with fingers red 

and torn, 
Clinging to the rugged rocks that its close embraces 

scorn, 
A little vine so slender that the summer-sprite would 

fear 
To move it with a murmur, or to bow it with a tear. 
It has clambered to the window of the little room 

above. 
From which thy infant footsteps first world-ward 

learned to rove ; 
And one blue eye has opened, on thi& strange and 

jarring earth. 
Whose sweetest sight was present to greet it at its 

birth. 
Perhaps some shining minister of that fair train who 

bring 
Their garnered scents and beauties to grace the throne 

of Spring — • 



82 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Heading in her rapid flight the tale of love forgot, 
Stopped lingering a moment to weep its lonely lot, 
And gave that its first blossom shonld view the holi- 
est sight 
With which this harsh and heedless world could its 
pm'e heart delight. 

Ay — it is thy mother praying — praying for thee, war- 
rior brave ; 
Praying, though her thoughts are kneeling by the 

stillness of thy grave ! 
She has ceased to hope that here her son will to her 

arms be given, 
But she prays that she may meet him in the holiness 

of Heaven. 
l^ow, patter, patter, patter, on her dry and parching 

heart 
Fall the healing drops of comfort from the clouds of 

God that start — 
And forth the blossoms twinkle pure as lilies of the 

vale 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 83 

That are the silver footprints in the April shower's 

trail. 
Fear not to weep, O soldier ! — an angel stancleth near 
To string in diamond coronet each pure and manly 

tear ! 
An hour — and they will jewel the circle of thy head, 
For crowned with tears a mortal only to his King is 

led. 

They are sitting in the room where the thoughts of 
dead men stand 

As mummies swathed and lettered by the skilled em- 
balmer's hand. 

A brand is slowly dying on the ample old hearth- 
stone — 

Like hopes they flicker up and die, the lithe sparks, 
one by one : 

The sun and fire have entered the field of deadly 
strife. 

And one bright beam is seeking the failing ember's 
life. 



84: THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 

Fair as summer and the noon (when clustering roses 
throw 

The shadow of their fragrance on the air's too lovely 
glow — 

When June in silent thankfulness is stretching out to 
God 

Her leafy hands, a-tremble at the breezes' wayward 
nod) — 

Are those two gentle faces that watch the dying brand 

In the purer rays of sunshine poured from God's all- 
blessing hand. 

In the silence of their thoughts they sit and watch 
with dreamy eye 

The future's fairy phantoms pass lingeringly by ; 

And one has built within her heart a holy shrine to 
Hope — 

But hers to Love's twin cherubim for evermore is ope. 

One is dreaming of the day when earth's brown cheek 
will, blush 

With deeply-crimsoned roses and the bud's more ten- 
der flush ; 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 85 

And on the fields' deep bosom will gently be unrolled 

The wavy grain as dazzling as an angel's tress of gold ; 

"When her kino^ will sin 2^ his anthem of sunshine to 
the earth, 

And waken her from dreary sleep to summer scenes 
of mirth — 

Until her full heart heaves and swells to join the 
golden strain 

In choruses of leaf and flower from breeze-enamored 
plain : 

For then a brother's tender love will lend the sum- 
mer bloom, 

And throw fresh fragrance o'er the hills and daisied 
meads of Home. 

But she, the dearer of the twain — ^what happy visions 

guard 
Her speechless lips, and o'er her voice keep long and 

silent ward ? 
Her fond thought, hand in hand with love, ad own the 

woodland flees. 



86 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

To tlie little church whose ivied brow peeps through 

the naked trees : 
'Tis summer, and the fond earth tells before her lord, 

'the sun, 
The rosary of flowers he clasped her beauteous breast 

upon ; 
The bells are ringing sweetly out upon the listening 

air. 
Whose zephyrs swift its music to the glades and 

mountains bear — 
And underneath this arch of chime, and o'er the 

velvet grass. 
Up through the massive oaken door, a little party 

pass — 

Hist ! hist ! Tlie mountain sprite 
Scares the dull and drowsy night 

With his cries ; 
Or it is the step of friends 
Whom our kindly ally sends 

To surprise. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 87 

Look ! look ! 'Tis but the shadow 
Of a dark cloud creeping slow 

O'er the ground — 
And the rivulet is sobbing, 
And the wind's great heart is throbbing 

To its sound. 

Then a clear sharp whisper ran 
Through the heart of every man, 

'Tis the foe ! 
Down — down upon your faces, 
Like shadows in your places, 

Crouching low! 
As a wrathful fire that sweeps 
Through the forest, as it sleeps 

Hushed in night, 
Surging o'er the broken wall 
Of the myriad trees that fall 

By its might. 
Reaches now a little stream 
Whose defiant waters gleam 



88 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

In its path, 
And oppose a glancing front 
To the fierce and "burning brunt 

Of its wrath ! 
Here in vain it lifts on high, 
Tlirough the red and frowning skj, 

Arms of fire — 
Crushed and mouldering on the hearth 
Of the cold and dreary earth, 

They expire ! 
So, with the tread of fiame, 
The wary foem.an came 

In his might : 
A stealthy serpent creeping 
On his wearied prey and sleeping — 

Grand the sight! 
Ha, his fangs ! See — see them glance — 
Bayonet and thirsty lance — 
And his burning eyeballs dance 

With delight. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 89 

Is it the stealthy tramp of foes ? 
Or warrior hearts in burning throes 

For the field of strife ? 
Like lurking lions they crouch and bide 
The word that shall pour the crimson tide 

Of the foeman's life. 

ISTow, Christian soldier, gird thine armor on ! 
Clothed in the panojDly of prayer 
Against the spirits of the air— « 
Trusting thy God will aid 
The right with thy true blade — 
Be here on earth thy final victory won. 

They come — no sound of life is heard ! 

Till as a bolt at noonday hurled 

Upon the still and drowsy world, 
Shrieks through the air the signal word — 

And two hundred men 

Echo it again — 
" Up, 9Tth !" Onward they charge 



90 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Adown the steep and slippery gorge, 
Across the separating span, 
And Hedley Yicars leads the van I 

It was a glorious sight, to see 
Two hundred warriors valiantly 
Against two thousand foemen dare 
Their few but trusty blades to bare : 
It would have nerved the coward's hand 
To see their leader's fearless front. 
Bearing himself the battle's brunt, 
And leading on his little band. 
Oh soul, how short is Time 
To hymn the deed sublime ! 

Now, bursting from the clouds of Heaven, 

The moonbeams play 
About the red path he has riven ; 
And once again the cry is given, 

" Follow"—'' This way !" 
A shot — he falls ! But circlinor round. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 91 

His gallant men dispute tlie ground, 
And bear liim from tlie fray. 
They bear him gently in their loving arms, 
E-ough men whose heart the gory contest charms — 
And wash his death-wound with the tender tear, 
Stout men who have not wept for many a year : 
And softly Kight with darkened wings 
About their backward pathway clings. 
To shield them from the foeman's gaze 
And hide the battle's blinding blaze. 

As slowly back their steps they trace 
"With hearts that echo to their pace,- 

Bright grows the world's ecli]3se — 
" Cover — oh, cover up my face !" 

Comes faintly from his lips — 
And rough hands softly shroud the eye 
That cannot bide Heaven's brilliancy. 

Oh ! not the splendors of the moonlight sky, 
From whose array the cloudy armies fly — 



92 THE HEEOES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

l^or tliose fair orbs who in their chistered might 
Put the weak phantoms of the earth to flight — 

Are burning on his sight ! 
See ! O'er infinity's still depths they hie 

With steps that whiten on the blue profound, 
And soft descending by each starry round 
Link heaven and earth, and bridge the yawning sky- 

An angel company ! 
They come with hymn 
And harp of cherubim, 
To welcome to the pure repose of heaven 
The victor-soul to whom the crown is given. 

^ -X- * * ^ 4f 

Resplendent stars, in purple meadow trembling ; 

Leaves of the great Heaven tree — • 
Or countless spears of angel host assembling 

Throughout infinity — 
Why droop ye each your sadly shining leaf. 
And trail your spears in silent, sullen grief, 

And twinkle tearfully ? 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 93 

Over the sick man's midnight room advancing. 
Our eyes grew great with grief, 

On the pale face of brave old Kaglan glancing, 
Britannia's noble chief: 

See Justice limping with a tardy wreath. 

To grace the brow, alas ! grown cold in death, 
"With Time's frail, fading leaf! 

Lingering star, to Kight's pale brow still clinging, 

While hastes the rosy day, 
As tear from cheek of sorrow slowly winging 

Before Love's sunny ray — 
Hast thou some message still to man to give. 
Some memory in earth's great heart to live, 

Some radiant, star-like lay ? 

I caught the echo of a song when straying 

By Alma's bloody vale — 
And every breeze o'er field of battle playing 

Kepeats the glorious tale : 
List ! while before the sunbeams' step of flame 



94 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Mj dew-drop beauty fades, I hymn the name 
Of Florence Nightingale. 

Blessings on thee, Angel ! 

"Woman thou art not — 
Sent as an Evangel 

To this lowly spot. 
To preach to man the golden strain well-nigh forgot! 

On tlie battle's midnight 

Hising like a star 
Crowned with heavenly light, 
At thy sight afar 
To prayers and blessings turn the horrid cries of war. 

As the feet of April 

On the sunny slope 
Sky and earth with beauty fill, 
Cups of fragrance ope. 
So up beneath thy feet spring life and love and 
hope. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 95 

As a raj of simlight, 

Stealing tliroiigh the wood, 

Glances on a flower bright 
In the solitude, 
Thy genial love finds buds in hearts however rude. 

Up with gentle motion. 

Rising one by one. 
As the waves of ocean 
Smile back to the sun, 
So by thy passing beam bright looks and smiles are 
won. 

At the step of morning 

Birds their notes prolong. 
Her fair brows adorning 

With a crown of sons* — 
And round thy coming step the thankful voices throng. 

"Tell me, wounded comrade, 
Is it angel's form ' 



96 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

In a mortal's mien clad, 
Winging through this storm 
Of hissing hail and clashing clouds where death shot 
swarm ? 

*' Is she friend, or mother, 
Searching through the dead 

For her loved ? Or other 
Dearer still is fled ? 
Sure such a flood of love on kin alone were shed. 

"Battle's storm-clouds looming 

On the field of strife — 
With the thunder's booming 

Peals with death-glance rife — 
Melt into sunset sheen and gild departing life." 

Floods of fragrance flinging 

Through the house of death, 
With a prayer winging 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 97 

Home the parting breath, 
To thee the dying men their last fond words be- 
queath. 

Star of even shining 

On the brow of night, 
With the day's declining 
Glows with fairer light — 
So in hope's twilight grow thy look and words more 
bright. 

Silver-footed shower 

On the thirsty plain 
Paints the pallid flower. 

Gilds the summer grain, 
And makes the barren heath with beauty flush again. 

So eyes with gladness dance, 

Ears fresh music hear, 
Caught from thy kindly glance, 



98 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Word and frequent tear — 
E'en on the fallen oak some slioots of life appear. 

Little brook is gliding 

Through the forest dim, 
It the leaves are hiding, 
Yet its ceaseless hymn 
From hill-sides wakes an echo, and from mountains 
grim ! 

Still its waves are catching 

Little shreds of gold, 
It the sun is patching 

With hues manifold, 
Till the breeze bends the oak its beauty to behold. 

Its little heart is full, 

Full of warmth and love. 
Thus thy footsteps beautiful 

Through our life-fields rove. 
And earth is bent to praise by echoes from above. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 99 

Saint, or woman, thou! 
Throughout every land 

"With thy heart endow 
# All thy sister band — 

And circle all the earth with thy love's golden strand ! 



III. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LTJSTEE. 103 



I. 

Is it tlie moan of the northern wind 
Through the hearts of trees, 
The tremulous trees ; 

Or the pleading plaint of the wounded hind, 
That faints on the breeze? 

IL 

Is it the swan's last, death-saddened son^ 

That soimds in our ears, 

Our yearning ears ; 
Or the stifled sob o'er a maiden's wrong. 

This fount of tears? 

ni. 

Is it the dirge the sad sea sings, 
The querulous sea, 
Old white-haired sea ; 



104 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Or the bursting heart the torrent flings 
Down recklessly ? 

IV. 

Is it the mother's heart-broken cry * 

O'er her only child, 

Her pale, dead child; 
Or the breeze of Autumn gone sighing by 

"Where flowers once smiled? 

V. 

Is it the wail of a spirit lost, 

So startlingly sad, 

Sounding so sad; 
Or the midnight shriek of unburied ghost, 

Sorrow gone mad ? 

VI. 

Is it an archangel's warning sword 

That cleaveth the air, 

The frightened air; 
Or deathful breath of the wrath of the Lord, 

Waking despair? 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 105 

Lo ! through the murky sky the sword upraised ! 
At whose fell sight the sun grows dim and mazed ; 
The air all mute ; the breeze crept far away : 
And niglit , o'ertakes the scared fast-fleeing day ! 
Dark pestilential mists o'erhang like palls, 
Up the blue slope the plague's dank shadow crawls, 
And where Heaven's star-gemmed palm above them 

spanned, 
Disease spreads over all her hollow hand ! 
One deep, deep sob from choking breasts that starts — 
One lengthened wail of thousand breaking hearts ! 
In sackcloth bowed beside her children's bed. 
Old Norfolk anguished bends her widowed head, 
Or sadly wanders by their myriad graves, 
Nor comfort takes, nor consolation craves. 
Cradled in earth her children calmly sleep. 
Their burial chanted by the passing deep ; 
She cannot wake them with her luring charms, 
Tliey've found, and love their earlier mother's arms. 
O Norfolk, weep ! In sorrow shroud thy face ! 
Gone is thy beauty ; fled thy olden grace ! 



106 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Stricken of God, a leper henceforth go, 
Thy form in sackcloth clad, thy heart in woe ! 
Night has set on thee — dark, Egyptian night, 
Starless and hopeless, with no morrow bright — 
From house to house the messenger is fled — 
No hearth-stone now that numbers not its dead! 
Hear ye his pinions sweep ? Behold, he's come. 
And 'neath his wings spreads universal gloom ! 

But rose no star upon this fearful night? 
No brightening beam — nor any ray of light? 
Did worldly barriers stand unmoved before 
The tide of grief that swept that fated shore ? 
Did Mammon lift his glittering load on high 
And, Mercy spurned, his blood-bound kindred fly ? 
Did dove-eyed Charity, her cheek grown pale 
While Love and Fear, in turn, her heart assail, 
Lift up her eyes to man then all in vain, 
And only words, not deeds, of good- will gain ? 
Did Pity kneel alone by new-made grave, 
And stretch no hand the stricken life to save ? 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 107 

Or hand of earth spurn aught that Love had tasked, 
Or heart of man refuse what Mercy asked ? 
Speak, l^orfolk, from the path beside each mound 
That then the kindly step of stranger owned — 
'Not strangers they — a dearer name they earned, 
A brother's love then in their true hearts burned ! 
Swift as they saw the Pest's foul pinions spread, 
A brother host to smitten Norfolk sped — 
Left life behind and came to watch with death. 
Where food was plague, and pestilence was breath! 
ISTo E^orth, no South, nor East, nor "West were known ; 
A common sorrow made their heart but one ! 
Then Northern hand, rough from the heavy plough. 
Soft as an infant's soothed the Southern brow ; 
And Western palm, inured to rifle's grasp. 
Eased the soul's parting with its friendly clasp ; 
The Woodsman, when the struggling breath had fled, 
Head solemn words above the highborn dead. 
And dropped a tear — the only mourner he, 
To honor thus a stranger's memory. 



108 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

'NoY strangers only in these good deeds shared : 

Stout-hearted sons of that old city dared 

The certain grave that gaped on either side, 

And stayed, and strove, and sickened, sank and died. 

O Love, that tempered this his fearful frown! 
When fell the harvest by Death's sickle strewn, 
God's angel followed in the reaper's path 
To quench the terrors of his Master's wrath, 
And garnered from the desolated plain 
Rich golden sheaves of ever-blooming grain. 
How shall I speak thy praise, O saintly man. 
Soldier of Christ, fall'n fighting in the van ! 
The Cross in hand, where'er Death's shadow fell 
Tliy soothing tones the darkness would dispel ; 
The sick aroused to hear thy cheering voice. 
And dying faces shone with new-learned joys ; 
Tlie weak were strengthened by thy joyous tone. 
The strong man wept, and then went stronger on. 
Thy priestly robes waved o'er the coffined dead. 
Thy snow-white vestments shone by dying bed. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 109 

To bless their rest, or cheer the mourner's heart, 
Or bid the soul in joyful hope depart. 
But there was discord in one angel song — 
One face was wanting in the heavenly throng — 
Too pure for earth where he was lent, not given, 
Lamented Chisholm sought his home in Heaven. 

O Whirlwind, holding awful revelry. 

Spare from thy deathful blast that noble tree ! 

O Fire, whose footstep is a blackened path, 

Spare but one blossom from thy burning wrath ! 

Yain, vain — the blow has fallen — our hopes are fled — 

And Jackson's name is numbered with the dead ! 

He, toiling, patient, day on weary day, 

Droo]3ed not nor fainted on his lonely way. 

But when the summons came he laid him down 

And died a warrior, with his armor on ! 

Only death's grasp his generous arm could hold — 

Only in death his noble heart grew cold. 

As in some old Cathedral's stately aisle, 

The colored shadows of the sunlight smile 



110 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

On marble face, wHch, tliongli eartli-born it be, 
Hath won from stone an immortality — 
So 'round bis form, in death grown marble-pale, 
Love heavenly-hiied enwrapped its sunny veil, 
Streaming through broken hearts, and still 
Around his grave its golden shadows trill ! 

"Woman, forgive ! if trembling I essay 

To hymn your praises in my humble lay ; 

Timid, I shrank the task till sober Truth 

Came bounding forth to help my shrinking youth^ 

For only half of Truth's fair face were seen 

Should Woman's name and deeds no mention win! 

Hark ! as I sing, from E^orf oik's hearths and graves, 

Blent with the heaving bass of Ocean's waves, 

A strain arising soft, and sweet, and clear, 

Enters the heart through the enchanted ear: 

So in the wondrous tale of Eastern lore. 

The magic word spreads wide the hidden door. 

Oh, could I grasp that sweetly varied strain. 

Earth's giant heart should thrill with joyous pain ! 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. Ill 

Alas ! its eclio floats above my pen, 
And I can only echo that again. 



Toll, bell ! the funeral bell ! 

Life's little day 

Has passed away ! 
Hing out a solemn knell ! 

A score of years, 

Linked smiles and tears, 
Are measured by thy strong remorseless swell ! 



Toll, bell ! the funeral bell ! 

A form of clay 

Has passed away ! 
Ring out a solemn knell ! 

How, young and fair 

Beyond compare, 

Her life was given 

To point to Heaven — 
Tell out, tell out with thy remorseless swell I 



112 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Toll, bell ! the funeral bell ! 
Another soul 
Has reached its goal ! 
Ring out a solemn knell ! 
Hark the loud song 
The saints among ! 
Tell out a sinner saved with thy remorseless swell! 

Toll, bell ! the funeral bell ! 

Thou canst not dim 

The angel hymn ! 
Yet ring a solemn knell ! 

Her sin's foul spot 

Has been forgot: 

Oh, to her home 

The wanderer's come ! 
A ti'iumph now is your remorseless swell I 

Toll, bell ! the funeral bell 1 
Falls the full tear 
On a bride's bier ! 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 113 

Eing out a solemn knell ! 
Ills tears in vain 
Appeal to Heaven : 
Tell out his grief with thy remorseless swell I 

Toll, bell ! the funeral bell ! 
A blooming prey 
Death bears away ! 
Eing out a solemn knell ! 
Dry, dry his tears: • 
Life's ceaseless fears 
And bitter woe 
She'll never know ! 
Tell out her joy in thy remorseless swell I 

Toll, bell ! the funeral bell 1 

A mother's breast 

Has welcomed rest ! 
Eing out a solemn knell ! 

Well done ! well done ! 

Sweet, patient one ! 

Welcome her home with thy remorseless swell ! 

8 



114: THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Toll, bell ! the funeral bell ! 
Dust to its sod ! 
Soul to its God ! 
Ring out a solemn knell ! 
Well done thy part, 
Thou noble heart! 
Ring out, I crave, 
"A Woman's Grave" 
Over her rest with thy remorseless swell! 



Echo, bell ! echo, bell ! 

Above their lowly tomb, 
For centuries to come ! 

Echo thy solemn knell ! 

Oh tell of Woman's faith 
That trod in Duty's path — 
Oh tell of Woman's love. 

These clustered graves that prove ! 
And echo this with thy remorseless swell! 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 115 

He who was foremost in old l^orf oik's pride ! 
[NToblest of noble sons, most fit to guide 
A people's helm in every hour of need — 
True to his God, and to his heart's proud creed. 
When stout men paled, and cowards fled appalled, 
A chosen band of heroes 'round him called, 
And calmly faced the coming death, rior knew 
"What 'twas to fear, or be in thought untrue. 
There was his post ; his was the present hour ; 
In God's great hand lay all the Future's power ; 
His was to do ; his daily life to bear ; 
His life was God's, his honor his own care : 
God took the soul by deed well tried on earth — 
In death his honor proved its lofty birth. 

To die in battle is a death sublime ! 
But when the faint hand of expiring Time 
Shall drop forever from its trembling hold 
The scroll with all its hero-names enrolled — 
Eternity from Earth's devouring flames 
Shall snatch her glowing catalogue of names, 



116 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

And where the falling stars withhold their rays, 

These deathless names shall shine to endless days ; 

There splendent as the spheres his fame shall be, 

Who died a martyr to Humanity ! 

So long as Honor lives unstained on Earth; 

So long as Christians know a martyr's worth ; 

So long as name unspotted is a crown ; 

So long as men a God, or soul, shall own; — 

Thy name shall live, and loved and honored be, 

O martyred Woodis, in Earth's memory ! 

And thou, Yirginia ! 'round thy heart entwined, 
That hero host forever keep enshrined — 
Strangers and sons alike thy love now claim. 
Their cause was one, their life, their death, their fame. 
Ye mountaius, write the tale deep in your hearts! 
Thou sea, proclaim it to the distant marts ! 
And wind ! that sleepest now on their loved tomb — 
Whene'er thou wanderest by Virginian home. 
Tell of the sainted dead, and make their name 
To giant deeds each brave man's heart inflame: 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 117 

And if percliance at twilight's thoughtful tide, 
Some pilgrim stranger stand those mounds beside, 
And ask the deeds of nameless dead beneath, 
Thy loving tribute to their memory breathe. 
Tell of the horror at the plague's first stride — 
Tell of the faith that still on God relied — 
Tell of the woe that wept in every home — 
The noisome dead uncoffined — and the gloom 
Outpoured upon them, till the living fled 
Each other's sight more corpse-like than the dead I 
Tell of the hours of ceaseless toil — the love 
That at the bedside still with sickness strove — 
The wasted frame — the body racked with pain — 
The blackened tongue that strove to thank — in vain — 
The soul that shrank not at the step of death — 
The glazing eye — the last, calm, peaceful breath ; — 
Tell of the trench in which his corpse was thrown — 
Tell of the martyr's bright, eternal crown ! 



EPILOGUE. 



Oh, say not that the martyr spirit's dead ! 
Or that the hero heart 
Will e'er from earth depart ; 

Or we shall ever weep true manhood fled ! 

Tlie oak's red heart is throbbing through his leaves, 

As in the ages gone ; 

And still with mournful moan, 
The Autumn wind through the bare branches grieves ! 

Yet every Summer brings a crown of green 
To grace his brave old head — 
Him, left by winter dead, 

Spring loves to deck in youth's perpetual sheen. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 119 

The world's ripe fruit drops in its open grave. 

Touched by a wintr j hand : 

True hearts of every land, 
The strength and glory that the Summer gave, 



These never die — but in an endless chain. 
As star-zone of the sky 
At day's step seems to die. 

In fresher beauty they are born again. 



The white-winged snow would pall the wearied eye, 
Weighing on earth's great heart, 
K never to depart — 

Its beauty in satiety would hidden lie : 



April would cease to move us by her tears, 
Nor could her sunny smile 
The wayward heart beguile, 

If she swayed earth through never-ending years : 



120 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Summer, far scattering her wealth of gold, 
Would e'en a tyrant be. 
If she unchangingly 

The seasons in her gilded chain should hold : 



Autumn, bent low o'er earth his loved to shield 
From winter's frozen glance — 

Pierced by his icy lance, 

His red life shedding over hill and field, 



And staining tree and flower with its rich flood — 
Would far more cruel seem 
Than any fleeting dream 

That ever mourner's sobbing slumber wooed : 



Or than the gleams of Paradise that glance 
Upon the traveller's eye, 
Born of the desert sky 

Only to break the heart they would entrance. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 121 

Man is the fitting index of his age : 

Some for great deeds are born, 
The earth's life to adorn, 

The world their own — they the world's heritage : 



Each in his proper sphere moves on through earth ; 

We keep onr lowly path, 

Waiting in hnmble faith 
Until some age shall give a giant birth ; 



This is the lesson from all nature learned — 
Still, in her snowy shroud. 
Old mother earth lay bowed, 

While seeds of beauty in her bosom burned, 



Until the mandate came for Summer's reign. 
And then her voice upraised 
Her mighty Maker praised, 

In golden notes that quivered o'er the plain ! 



122 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

A lily lapped in fragrant Summer airs, 
Like a seraphic wing 
Around wliicli sunbeams cling, 

And floods of heavenly songs that earthward bears, 



Would seem, upon the pale, still breast of snows, 
To mock the pallid dearth 
Stalking the streets of earth. 

The summer-ghost that shrinking winter knows I 



]N'ot all are born on earth for giant deeds ; 
Each has his work to do, 
His fixed path to pursue, 

To play liis part where'er his life-road leads : 



Yet, in a lowly spliere each manly heart, 
If to himself but true — 
Tliough he alone will view 

The toils tliat cloud— the unseen foes that start 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTliE. 123 

About his path, and darken it with strife — 

Sure will he victor be, 

And conquering gloriously. 
Splendent will be the evening of his life ! 



As much a hero he who boldly me6ts 
The lesser ills of earth — 
Though w^e but know his worth 

In the bright sunset that his life completes. 



So o'er the death-couch of the clouded day, 
To the upgazing world 
l^ew beauties are unfurled. 

Draping the pale sky with their rich array- 



And glittering through the bright empurpled arch, 
Tlie sun rolls on in pride — 
The grey clouds cannot hide 

His eye of hre, or longer stay his march ! 



124 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

The liigh-browed peak, crowned by the sunset's gold. 
More stately seems, and grand, 
Beside the lowlier band 

That lift their heads in w^onder to behold : 



Tlie grim tree takes a grandeur from the flower ; 

One mighty in the earth. 

Humble the other's birth, 
A poet singing through his sunny hour — 



Yet loving eyes will bend to mark the blush 
Tliat tints the blossom's cheek — 
And wayward ears to seek 

The fragrant songs that from its full heart gush: 



And mayhap some will think this humble meed 
More worthy of the soul 
And of its heavenly goal, 

And the pure teachings of its lofty creed. 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LIJSTKE. 125 

VYorld-greatness is true mdnliood sealed by Fame ; 

When lulled in arms of peace, 

All sounds of discord cease, 
And sleej) steals soft upon earth's giant frame, 



Tliough all things seem in silent sliimber lapped, 

Yet there is unseen seed, 

Parent of mighty deed, 
Offspring of Time, in Earth's wide womb enwraj)ped. 



What though the mount's black brow has hoary grown. 
Its deep mouth sealed with ice ? 
Beneath the fierce fires hiss. 

And tones unearthly through its caverns moan. 



Far down beneath the waves a coral isle, 
By hands unseen bedight. 
Slow rises to the light. 

And parts the waters w4th a rosy smile ! 



126 THE HEKOES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

"World-greatness needs tlie gaudy seal of Fame- 
When its full time lias come 
It bursts its prison womb, 

And nations wondering its birtli proclaim : 



As when above the oosom brown of earth 
Tlie babe-flower lifts its head, 
Then joyful sunbeams spread 

Their frolic ring about and dance of mirth 



The air is near to lull it with soft breeze, 
And bear its stolen sweets 
To the dell's deep retreats. 

And shout a triumph through the bending trees ! 



The dew sits janitor upon its leaves 

Tliroughout the starry night, 
To guard from wicked sj^rite. 

Or list the whispered plot the tempest weaves ! 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 127 

The sunliglit paints it with its richest tints, 

And with a brush of gold 

Makes its pale cheek unfold 
Each day new beauties that its touch imprints ! 



The silver-sandalled shower speeds sobbing by, 
Kisses its tender face, 
And rains a gentler grace — 

Alas ! it weepeth that the flower must die ! 



So Heaven first greets the new-born hero's sight — 
Then sunny eyes of earth 
Dance at his glorious birth. 

And circle 'round him as a crown of light : 



And deep-voiced Fame is there to catch his deeds. 
And spread them through the worlds — 
Her mighty wings unfurled. 

Waking a tempest throughout earth she speeds ! 



128 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Then myriad hearts catch np the swelHng gale, 
And myriad souls are glad, 
And myriad voices add 

To the wild storms the hero's course that hail ! 



Thus with the mortal whom the world calls great- 
But there are god-like deeds 
The worldling never heeds, 

'Nor less their worth that humble is their fate — 



Whose star (not ruddy as the martial Mars, 
Sending his lurid beams 
Far through the realm of dreams. 

And waking watchful worlds to thought of wars) — 



Rises in light serene above the vale. 

And hangs, a guardian sprite 
That smiles at black-browed JN'ight, 

And breaks with silver spear the clouds that scale 



THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTEE. 129 

The azure rampart of the slumbering skies : 

As sheenest jewel fair, 

Pure as an angel's prayer, 
Only before the sunlight's flame it flies ! 



Day must succeed to E^ight — (poor, love-lorn Kiglit, 
"Who, following patient, waits 
At Day's rich, golden gates. 

Jewelled, to heighten more her piteous plight !) 



Each must have equal sway : but some great heart 
At Day's proud step w^ill thrill ; 
An humbler soul will trill 

The songs that round the steps of Even start. 



Under each sway content — with equal love — 

Whether the yielding air 

A gold-throned monarch bear, 

Awed by the glories that about him move : 

9 



130 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTKE. 

Or if a silver sceptre sway the spheres, 
And charm, with tender raj, 
From Day's wild reign away — 

Still must our praises triumph o'er our fears. 



Oh ! when a hand of cloud encircles earth, 
And dims the sparkling stream, 
And makes the dank hills seem 
Forever to have hushed their songs of mirth- 
Doubt not the sun is shining overhead! 
Bursting the cloudy gate, 
What splendors on him wait. 
And over earth what floods of glory spread ! 



THE HEKOES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 131 



O BROTHER ! speed the noble cause of Man ! 

Make thine own heart a star, 

Sending its radiance far. 
Till Love completes the work that Love began ! 

Dream not of glories of the days of yore — 

]^ot all the day is sped. 

Thy sun gleams overhead 
In the bright hollow of the Evermore ! 

Oh ! when Time's gewgaw sun has shrivelled up ; 

The ghastly moon has fled 

Unto the ever dead,- 
And with her drawn her tinsel silver group ; 

And when this cloudy curtain of the air 
That angel hands now hold. 
Shall be at last uprolled. 

And the great theatre beyond laid bare 



132 THE HEROES OF THE LAST LUSTRE. 

Rash pen, forbear the Future's wealth to seek ! 

Let no divinmg rod 

Turn towards the throne of God : 
This — only this — is given thee to speak : 

Its starlight will be actions great and good, 
Catching their holj glow, 
(As sunbeams star-ward flow,) 

From the Eternal Sun — our Mighty God ! 



NOTES. 



It is not, at this time, necessary to note particularly deeds that have 
become household words. With the names of Franklin and Kane, and 
the princely merchants their co-laborers ; with the heroes and heroines 
of the Crimea ; with the gentle story of Lady Franklin, and Florence 
Nightingale, and Hedley Vicars, all who will read this little book are 
familiar. No one will be surprised to meet them in this song. 

But there are others, no less worthy of mention, who, in this wild 
frenzy of American life, may be forgotten, if they have not already 
passed out of the memory of the multitude. I speak of our own 
HEROES — those especially our own ; not in the spirit of boasting which 
is our national failing, but in the faith of the oneness of man. Our 
boast is not in vain, when we speak of Chisholm, and Jackson, and 
Woodis — of true men and noble-hearted women who encountered an 
atmosphere more deadly than the frozen air of the North, and a foe 
more wily and dangerous than the Russian. 

In alluding to Norfolk, the Author has included under the term, all 
that part of Virginia that was desolated by the pestilence of 1855 ; and 
in speaking of its men and women, he has but set to homely music that 
which was read in every paper in the land. 

The Hunter Woodis of whom the Poem speaks, was mayor of the city 
of Norfolk. Of him it is enough to say, that in the prime of life, aged 
but 35 years, he elected to remain at the post of duty, and die if God 
so willed. 

The Ecv. Messrs. Jackson and Chisholm were rectors of churches at 
Norfolk and Portsmouth, respectively. They were men of pure and 
unspotted lives ; "full of the Holy Ghost and of faith ;" strict in living 
up to the solemn vows of their oftice ; devoted to the Church, and to 
its Head, their Master ; and, therefore, men not afraid to die. I have 



134 NOTES. 

heard them spoken of with that grateful reverence that rests upon the 
memory of a " good man," as sunshine on a grave. 

In this connection, a few extracts from the letters of Mr. Chisholra 
(Memoir, New Yorlc, 1856), with reference to the extent and horrors of 
the plague, are not out of place ; to show, by contrast, the heroism of 
these soldiers of the Cross, who, when all of their own congregation 
were dead or had fled, remained to meet their death when ministering 
to strangers. 

' ' The state of things in Norfolk is said to he appalling beyond all 
conception. The Baltimore steamer came into port to-day, to land, 
among other articles, a lot of fifty coffins ; and we are told that such was 
the dire need of them, that there was actual quarrelling and fighting 
over them." "The condition of our town (Portsmouth) is awful be- 
yond conception. The eye must see ; the ear must hear ; the fancy 
cannot furnish the deep, dark shadows of the picture. On Sunday, 
thirty-two deaths ; on Monday, twenty- two — to-day, by eleven o'clock, 
seventeen. The heartless language of the undertaker from Avhom I 
obtained this morning's report, was, almost in a tone of exultation : 
'Oh! we'll get it up to twenty before sunset.' " "Never since the 
continent of America has been settled (I speak calmly, and with refer- 
ence to what I have read pr heard of), never has so terrible a calamity 
overwhelmed the same amount of population." 

To this general statement, I append three notes, explanatory of th'e 
only places that seem to require special notice. 

Page 19 ; lines 5 and 6. 

" Than him, ne'er mother wept a nobler son, 
Or gained so soon, in thee, as dear an one." 

This was written before the death of Dr. Kane. It needs a master- 
spirit to dare take up the song now. 

Page 84 ; line 10. 

"But her's to Love's twin cherubim," &c. 

Lest in this singular age this expression be misunderstood, let me 
state that it is of earthly affection combined witli, and purified by, a 
holier love, that this speaks. The "Life of Hedley Vicars" bears out 
the truth of the line. 



NOTES. 135 



Page 112 ; line 12. 

" Her sin's foul spot 
Has been forgot." 

Let it be written here, to the praise of woman, true to her nature 
even in degradation, that many of the outcasts of Norfolli were found 
the most unselfish attendants on the dying ; bathing their feet with 
their tears, and wiping them with the hairs of their head, if that by 
any means they might find in the sick and friendless. Him whom we 
" have always" witli us. 

I have seen few nobler pictures in the gallery of life. It gives new 
meaning to the admonition, " He that is without sin, let him first cast 
a stone." 

With this, the Author bids his little song God-speed. To our com- 
mon humanity the appeal has been made ; and if he has touched a liv- 
ing chord, it is of itself a sufficient reward. If this little song shall 
have put an end to some of the croakings of those who are ever prating 
of the glories of the past, and shall have taught them that the earth 
has not yet ceased bearing heroes ; if it open to the eyes of the men and 
women of to-day, the fields of heroism lying about them on every side ; 
if it show the young clergyman of our own times the beauty of that de- 
votion to God's service even unto death, that finds not its expression 
in the proclaiming of new and startling human conceits, nor its reward 
in the noisy applause of men ; if it impress on one who reads it, the 
moral grandeur of duiy PERroRMED, its end will be answered. 



The End. 



MV.ny 1869 



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